Bajor Rising
by N8NBot
Summary: The Necromorph threat has spread, and brought the galaxy to its knees. Bajor, a once vital planet, has shut itself off completely from the outside in an attempt to curb the threat Unitology presents, and the Markers its believers attempt to create. Bajor is only one star system however, and faces a threat unseen by the rest of the galaxy.


_The first galactic shattering event was the disappearance of the Q. Within a standard year, every single known member of the Q vanished without a trace, gone forever more. This had the unintended idea that they were in fact, the cause of the Unending Swarm. It was only a matter of time after that for the fires of anarchy to rise even higher, and the mortal races to finally realize that they were facing the end of existence. We were left at the mercy of the screaming tides, and had nothing but the cold void to hear our pleas for mercy. It never came,_

 _ **-Memoirs of a Broken Galaxy**_

"Captain's log, Stardate 49065.5." Captain Sisko stood behind his desk, posture stiff as he looked into the stars. "Romulus has fallen. While the Romulans were able to curb the cult of Unitology on their own planet, they couldn't control the Remans. It appears the deluded underclasses believed with unlimited energy they could finally cast off the yoke of the Romulans." Sisko turned, before taking a seat at his desk, looking at the display of his map. "They succeeded, if success is measured in both planets now full of the ravenous dead." He pressed some of the buttons on his desk, bringing up a monstrosity of bone and rotted flesh. "The Romulan variant of necromorph is very powerful, their atrophied psychic power strengthened somewhat, making them able to actually lead their physically stronger Reman variants." He closed the display, the monster disappearing as he closed his eyes. "Its funny," he chuckled mirthlessly, "even in death they are led by those they sought to depose."

"Im telling you major, there is nothing more I can add to the station safely." muttered an exasperated O'Brian. "We've doubled the amount of medical staff we can employ, tripled the redundant power supplies, strengthened the shielding past any sense of safety parameters, if we add any more the station might not be able to take it." Major Kira looked at him impassively, her once hospitable personality long replaced from the horrors of the war they now were faced with. Her earring dangled loosely, the ridges in her nose furrowing. "Frankly Chief, I don't give a damn. The planetary forces have cracked down on three more Unitology cells this past week, we cannot afford to lose the station." O'Brian looked at her, searching her face for any trace of the friend he once had, before looking away shaking his head. "Defend from what? These things aren't spaceborn, the only way we can tell if one is even aboard a ship is by finding it physically. They have no heat signature, no pulse, not even a damn transporter lock. If, by some form of miracle there are variants able to exist within the vacuum, they seem perfectly content sticking in whichever part of the galaxy they've already consumed." Kira grimaced, before turning and walking away. "Find a way to increase defenses on the station O'Brian. Thats an order."

Quark's bar was in complete disarray. Tables were strewn haphazardly, legs often bent from being moved too often, chairs missing their backs was a common sight. Synthehol stains spattered the banners hanging from the ceiling, the bar top was cracked, and the whole room smelled like a constant fire from all the smoke. Quark was ecstatic. "Five hundred bars of gold pressed latinum in a week. A week!" Quark laughed, waving a hand around his bar. "People are so desperate for an escape, I don't even have to pay for repairs! They come anyway! Rom, get out here!" At his call, another Ferengi came around the bar, his bulbous forehead slick with sweat. "That's all well and good b-brother, but we still need to clean, at least." Quark looked at his brother, staring at him for a short moment before nodding his head with some hesitation. "As much as I hate to admit you're right brother, in this case I'll make an exception. This place is filthy. And," he paused for a moment, turning around to the replicator. "If cleaned, we might be able to attract those who still think their too good to come forget their troubles for awhile. Find Nog, let's get to work."

Constable Odo sat at his desk, pretending to read the data tablet in front of him detailing a list of petty criminals, a waste of time in the current state of the galaxy. As he sat there, his thoughts went back to his people, a people he discovered not long ago. Once the Necromorph threat had been recognized, Deep Space 9 was flooded with refugees, hoping to escape to the Gamma Quadrant. Thousands upon thousands of ships traveled through the wormhole daily, reality warping under the pressure of the flood. But even on the other side, death awaited. The Marker had somehow ended up even in the Gamma Quadrant, the Dominion facing its own battle against this undead threat. The founders, a species of shapeshifters like him, approached the Federation with a warning. Any more refugees would be shot down, the Dominion could not afford any more outbreaks than those they were already dealing with. Odo's thoughts returned to the founders more and more often, the offer to rejoin them fresh in his mind. His nights plagued with the question, were they susceptible to The Marker's effects? Many species made different variants of Necromorph, the Betazoid's considered the most dangerous, their bodies bloated but their psychic power boosted to fatal levels. What would a variant of a shifter be? He placed the data slate down, before closing his eyes. Some thoughts were best left alone.

Jake Sisko sat above the Promenade, his dark skin contrasting with the metallic sheen around him. He sat above the hushed masses below him, all the colors blending together in his eye as a constant stream of sights, an unfocused river of vibrant oranges and dark blues. The whispers sounded like the rivers of Earth, and the more he focused the more he could imagine home, it's cool fresh air and its tall mountains. It was some time in this state before he realized that someone was calling his name, a sound just beyond his consciousness before finally ringing crystal clear. "JAKE!" yelled a small Ferengi, directly next to his head. "Ow Nog, I can hear you alright?" Jake looked up at the Ferengi, his fanged smile and large forehead still the first things that attract the eye. "Well it certainly didn't look like it, i had to yell three times! I thought you keeled over and just stayed sitting." Jake untangled himself from the railing, and stood up, rising above the alien. "Yeah well, I was just thinking." Nog's face suddenly fell. "Feeling homesick?" Jake nodded, leaning against the railing staring at the crowd below. "With Bajor all but cutting itself off from the outside, only the higher ups get any information. My dad still won't tell me anything that's happening off the station, says it's top secret." He turned back towards Nog violently, anger suddenly appearing on his face. "How is it top secret? The rest of the damn quadrant is still in communication, why is Bajor the only one that refuses to reach out? Why can't I send a simple message to my Grandpa?" With all the commotion, the whispers below stopped, all eyes turning towards the children above. Mutterings of agreement flittered throughout the crowd. "What's happening to the other planets? Are we the only ones left? Is everyone else dead?" The crowd whispered louder at these words, fear becoming a physical presence in the air. "Jake," hissed Nog, "you need to keep your voice down. You're the Captain's son. These are dangerous words." Jake turned and saw the whole Promenade silently gazing up at him. "Shows over." he muttered, before turning around and heading into a hallway leading to the habitation ring. The crowd began to move again, the soft sound of walking the only noise for quite some time.

The station was massive, its Cardassian design vastly changed as more and more bajoran elements were added to protect it against any threat. Nearly doubled in size from its original state, great spires bristled with weaponry, its shields constantly up at all times except when its defense fleet needed to refuel. Because of its expanded design, the sensors of the behemoth was decreased by far, relying on the outdated sensors of the planet below. It was this design flaw that caused them to miss perhaps the most crucial detail. For in the darkness, sat a moon. Its surface gnarled with asteroid impacts, its color a dull gray reminiscent of a frozen corpse. From the perspective of the star system, it did not move, orbiting at the precise speed of the planet Bajor millions of miles away. It stayed there, on the very edge of the system, a quirk in fundamental physics, an impossibility. No astral object could move that fast. But ever so slowly, it began to move in a visible manner. Mile by mile, the moon began to move.


End file.
